Anytime
by Kerrison
Summary: Post Ep for 7-2 and 7-3 Reunion & Inside man Spoilers ahead. Scenes between Tony & Ziva that I feel were missing.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I wrote this at lunch today. I think it might fall under the "too much too soon" category, but that's not going to stop me from writing or posting. ;-) I may follow up with a second (or 3rd) chapter to smooth out that bump.**

**Reviews would be lovely.**

Standard disclaimer applies - I own nothing other than a whole smackload of debt.

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She shifted the strap on her shoulder, pulling her dark curls from under the heavy weight of her backpack.

The keys to her rental jingled in her hand as she strode the short remaining distance across the parking lot.

A slight movement caught her eye and Ziva's head snapped up, taking in the long form leaning oh-so-casually against her driver's side door.

She mentally cursed herself for not having noticed his presence earlier – her first official day back at NCIS had been an emotionally draining experience and if she were fair to herself, considering recent events it was no doubt that her ninja-senses were slightly askew.

"Do you need a ride?" She offered, allowing a puzzled look to settle across her features.

He shook his head, his new longer bangs falling across his forehead. "Nope."

"So my car just makes for a good place for you to rest your butt?" She said, trying to feel out a little light banter with him. It was the only solid ground they ever had between them, the gentle tease and flirting. And Ziva had learned today that she missed it more than she had anticipated.

"Well, yes," he acquiesced. "But it was also the only place I knew I'd catch you before you left for the day," he admitted, his eyes flicking across her as she stood in front of him, only slightly in his personal space.

Honesty. Up-front conversation.

It really was a new concept for them both and she watched as he felt out the technique with her, his ambivalence clear on his face.

"Oh," she replied, allowing her backpack to slide down her arm and rest at her feet. "Did I … offend you today? Has the team dynamic changed and you wanted to tell me in private? Because I appreciate the courtesy considering everything that has –"

She was silenced mid-sentence as she felt his arm slide around her shoulders and he pulled her into a crushing hug against his chest.

He tilted his head and left a gentle kiss on her cheek, mirroring the same motion she used yesterday.

"So I got home last night and couldn't sleep when I realized what an ass I was yesterday," he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek. "I _almost_ knocked on your door at midnight to give you a hug, but I figured considering what happened the last time, it probably wasn't a good idea," he said trying a hesitant but gentle tease before pulling away and looking at her with a respectfully reverent gaze.

"So yesterday – I acted like my father," he started, clearly alluding to their conversation in the men's room. "Dad - he used to take-off on some sort of urgent 'work thing' whenever mom wanted to have a serious chat. I was so eager to get the damned case solved so we could all go out for a beer that I ran out on you."

"Tony, it is fine," she said, trying to forestall his self-hatred with a lifted hand.

"Its not," he said simply. "What you said, Ziva, … it deserved more than just being run out on. I'm sorry."

"The case was more important. I will still be here after the case."

"You know," he said not able to resist the urge, and letting his hand reach up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "I used to think that. But lately I'm realizing how that is just not true. I'm going to say what needs to be said when I can."

Ziva felt a small smile on her lips and realized how the motion was now as foreign to her as Hebrew was to Tony. "I think that is a good idea- for both of us," she agreed before pressing on cautiously. "But so you know, next time you are welcome to come knock on my door at midnight to give me a hug."

"And a kiss…. on the cheek," he added, the lightest sparkle in his eye.

She nodded and tilted her head in the tell-tale way she had with him when she was refusing to blush. "And a kiss."

"Now, does that only apply to midnight, Ziva?" he said, stepping away from her car and towards his own.

"Any time you would like to remind me that you have my back, Tony," she said, unlocking the rental and tossing her bag onto the passenger's seat.

"Anytime?" he called as he walked backwards across the parking lot to his car.

"Anytime."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Unbeta'd. All errors are mine. Reviews are appreciated. **

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The thudding on her door startled her slightly and she mentally inventoried the weapons within arms'-reach before blinking through the peep hole.

_Tony._

She flipped the deadbolt and held the door open, trying to tamp down the small grin that slid across her features as he strolled into her new apartment as if he had been there many many times before.

Tony set the bag of takeout boxes on the coffee table and headed towards the kitchen with the six pack, no doubt to store the bottles in the fridge.

Ziva watched, closing the door behind him and standing in the doorway. She crossed her arms across her chest and followed his motions with an amused but curious gaze.

"So," he started, coming out into the living room again, two beer bottles in hand. He gently dropped onto her new sofa, the side he would always think of as 'his side' of the couch.

She cocked an eyebrow in reply before slowly moving to sit next to him on the sofa, still unsure of his motives.

"I left my jacket at my desk," he started, flipping the top on her beer before passing one of the bottles to him.

"The flirting was distracting," she offered as he paused to take a pull from the beer-bottle. "No surprise you forgot something."

"Its only fun if they flirt back, Ziva." He half-shrugged. "When I went back to get the jacket, Gibbs was staring at some forms… he – uh… well, he asked my opinion."

"Oh," she merely said, shocked and hurt that Gibbs had broadcast something so personal to Tony – their relationship still rocky.

"He wanted to know if I had any concerns," Tony continued, reaching towards the plastic bag on the coffee table and handing her the oriental-shaped container that held the pad thai she loved so much.

"I trust you were honest," Ziva said reluctantly, taking the box from his hand and as well as the chopsticks he passed to her.

"Kinda," he offered. "I mean, its Gibbs. I don't have to tell him everything for him to know everything, you know?"

"Very true."

Tony sat up and opened his container of Green Curry and helping himself to a bite. "I don't," he said around his mouthful of food.

"You eat like a donkey," she snarked at his table manners, ignoring his comment.

He swallowed and repeated his words. "I don't," he said, pausing and reaching over – somewhat tentatively – to steal a bite of her pad thai. "I don't have any concerns. I told him that."

"You do not have a single concern?" she queried, reaching over and taking a bite out of his container, the green curry spicy on her tongue.

"I have lots of concerns about life in general, Ziva. Will I ever get a concussion from one-too-many Gibbs-slaps? Does the DiNozzo gene pool die out with me? How many licks _does _it take to get to the center of the tootsie pop? I mean, these are important questions that I worry about," he said, the mildly amused glare she was giving him made his eyes twinkle slightly. "But no- no concerns about you."

"I do not understand."

He rolled his eyes and feigned ignorance. "A tootsie-pop. It's a loli-pop surrounding a tootsie roll –"

"Tony!" She interrupted. "I do not understand how you can trust me. I held … I held a gun on you."

"Yep," he said. "That sucked."

"How can you forgive that?"

His reply was soft and to the point. "Because you wouldn't be you if you had done something different."

She sighed, her chopsticks poking the food absently. "What do we do now?"

"Wait for Gibbs to decide," he replied.

"No. What do _we _do now?" she asked again, emphasizing the word that mattered most to her.

It was several moments before he looked at her, his gaze naked and raw. "I have no idea."

The room was quiet save the occasional sound of their chopsticks scrapping the side of the take-out container or their beer bottle clinking against the coffee table.

"Tony," her sultry voice finally broke the silence. "Is this – _this-_," she gestured between the two of them with her chopsticks. "Is it too much too soon?"

He shifted, bumping her shoulder with her own. "Nah. I mean, if there was nudity involved, people could say we were rushing things. But food? Food is the great equalizer and comforter. I mean, you're Jewish. You're people are all about eating for _every _stressful occasion, right?"

She merely rolled her eyes at his gross generalization.

"Now, if there was food _and _nudity, then that'd be a different story. That's not rushing things. That's just _Fun!" _

Ziva couldn't help but chuckle – it felt foreign in her throat and abrasive on her lips.

But it felt good.

It felt right.

Sitting here, with him, laughing. It felt right.


	3. Chapter 3

The din of the mall music had started grating on her nerves an hour ago, but she couldn't bring herself to leave without picking up some new clothes. Her previous wardrobe had been destroyed in her apartment's bombing and what she had left in Israel …well it wasn't accessible.

She fingered the soft fabric and paused, his words running through her head.

"_Nice Sweater. Where'd you get that? Stripes are nice."_

She had never been the type of woman to buy clothes to make a man happy.

She had never been the type to even care what _he _liked. She wore what was comfortable, practical, and flattering. She wore what _she _liked. And if he happened to like it too, that was just a bonus.

Yet she stood in front of the purple-striped cardigan and struggled to make her feet move away from the rack towards something that reflected her own sense of style more clearly.

A hand reached over her shoulder and gently pulled the coat hanger out of her hand before setting it back on the rack.

She spun, angry at herself for allowing someone into her defenses without any sort of warning. She felt her muscles twitch instinctively as a result of her being startled.

But when she saw his eyes, recognized him for who he was, she visibly relaxed. She managed to quell the urge to step away from him. She stifled the reaction to reach up and protect herself.

"Are you following me?" She asked, her voice with more bite to it than she had mustered in a while.

"No. Shopping- just like you," He offered a half smile. "I saw you up in housewares," he said simply, holding up his own logo'd bag to indicate his purchase had already been made.

"I need new clothes," she said simply. "And bed linens. And…well, everything, really."

Tony nodded. "And since when do you buy ugly clothes?" he asked, glancing back at the purple striped sweater.

"I thought stripes were very popular this year," she managed to grumble in her own defense, willing herself not to blush.

"Stripes aren't for some women," he said, resisting the urge to throw his arm across her shoulders and playfully guide her towards the lingerie section as they would have done months ago – before the fiasco now referred to merely as "Michael."

"They will make me look fat?"

"Ziva, any woman who can hide 12 different weapons on her body should not be wearing stripes. Because, really, that talent's just hot. And hot women don't wear striped cardigans."

She looked at the sweater, the same style the cop had worn earlier that week, and then back at him with a puzzled frown.

"I should take fashion advice from the man who obviously hasn't gotten his haircut in months?" she managed to reply, trying to divert the topic away from the dangerous territory of his flirting, her clothes, …well, everything seemed dangerous these days, really.

"It was on my agenda for this afternoon!" he said with a defensive tone. "Paulo books up months in advance – I'm trying to get in on a cancellation, Ziva!"

She smirked. "I could cut it for you," she replied with a somewhat evil grin, making a conscious effort to keep her fingers from playing with his long hair.

He appraised her carefully and remained silent on the topic before glancing at the rack to their right.

"OH!" he said, quickly moving out of her personal space and towards a brilliant sapphire top. "Now this," Tony said, picking up the blouse and regarding it carefully. "This is something you'd wear."

Ziva felt herself grin at his antics and mumbled an agreement at the blouse, taking it out of his hands and mentally noting that he had selected the correct size on the first try.

"Anything else?" she queried, playing along and rather enjoying the impromptu shopping trip. It was different, something that they had only done occasionally. After Jeanne. Before Michael. When there was _almost _something more…

He turned and grabbed two more shirts and two pairs of slacks and handed them to her without ceremony.

But he stopped at the edge of the daily-wear section, where the clothes seamlessly blended into the cocktail attire.

His hand reached out for the rich eggplant hued dress, the halter neckline similar to the style she'd worn undercover in Morocco. "Now this," he started and paused to chuckle in appreciation at the beautiful gown. "_This _is the kind of dress you have to buy – and keep in the closet just in case. You would look… god, Ziva, I don't know if your date would be able to make it out of the house when he picked you up – it'd be hard not to just drown in a puddle of drool."

"You make it sound so romantic, Tony. My date drowning in drool?" She replied.

"I'm just saying it'd be impossible not to appreciate _all _your attributes in this dress."

"It is impractical," she said simply. "I do not even know if Gibbs will hire me back. I certainly do not need a dress for dates I don't have yet, nor for undercover missions I might not go on." She reached across him and lifted the dress and hanger out of his hands and returned it to the rack. "These will do for today," she said, motioning to the clothes he had selected – the ones in her arms. "Thank you for your help."

He cast one last longing glance at the purple dress before stepping away and following her towards the register.

When her purchase was finalized and the cashier handed her the large bag, filled with new blouses, tank tops, slacks, skirts and khakis, she grinned to herself.

It was an odd feeling having Tony help her shop – in the past when they ended up at the mall together one random Saturday afternoon, he had always begged off while she selected clothes. They'd meet in the electronics section or the foodcourt. Aside from his occasional tease to get her to the lingerie department, he had never even so much as hinted at a desire to help her shop.

But today, he had surprised her.

And she was glad.

Otherwise she'd be the proud owner of a very ugly striped sweater.

"Ready to go?" he asked, gesturing with his head towards the parking-lot door.

"Where are we going?" she queried, adjusting the bag more comfortably in her hand.

He grinned saucily and slid his sunglasses into place as they stepped out into the midday sun.

"My place. You're going to cut my hair, remember?"

Ziva blinked slowly before falling into step beside him and following him to his car. He always liked to drive. And he'd bring her back here for her car when they were done, just like he used to.

She would come back tomorrow for the purple dress.


End file.
